Ghost Ship Orlova

Anastasia, Part 1

Because of health, Alexei had been excused from the commotion on the promenade deck, where the Bolshevik ship captain was formally remanding custody of the Imperial Prisoner to the care of his Infantry colleague, Captain Yakov Yurovsky.

She followed Alexei's gaze to the planet. Cotton-fluff clouds swathed the blue-green ball taking up most of the viewport below the ship. "It's supposed to be quite a bit warmer than Tobolsk," Anastasia said, giving him a smile, doing her best to cover up her dread. She was convinced they wouldn't leave Yekaterinburg alive. She shuddered, unable to contain her fright.

"Fear not, Natsya," her brother said. Again, he jingled the coins in his pocket.

She looked at him closely, disturbed that he seemed so confident, wondering at the source of it. Of all the Romanovs, he seemed the most frail. Mother's constant state of the vapors and Father's distant stare were nothing compared with the vulnerability that Alexei displayed on a daily basis. Or usually did.

Now, he seemed to have livened up, his posture straight, his gaze clear, and his face bright. In this pose, he looked capable of anything—even of wresting the throne back from the Bolsheviks.

"Alyosha, child," she said, a pet name for him that she hadn't used in months, "tell your sister what you're up to. Don't tell me you've been feigning all this time."

He grinned at her. "Of course I have. What better way to lull our captors into complacency, eh? Something I learned from your good friend, Lyuba."

Yearning and desire flooded through her. Anastasia blushed at the thought of her friend, at the wonderful ways they touched each other when no one else was around.

"Your secret's safe with me, Natsya," he said.

She gaped at him, not realizing he'd known. "How long ...?"

"Awhile now," he replied. "And I have a secret to share, too." He swung around in his hoverchair, a faint hum audible under the hiss of air from its jets. His chair floated toward the lift. He was in it before she realized he was leaving.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Anastasia hurried to catch the lift before the doors closed. She stared at him as the floor sank beneath them, astonished he had contrived his episodes well enough to fool his entire family. Acting had been a favorite pastime amongst all the children even before Lyubov had been introduced to the family, the four older sisters having started prancing about in a frivolous fashion early on, seeking some way to distract Alexei from his misery. Over the years, he'd played many parts himself, but Anastasia hadn't thought him capable of feigning illness, the scourge all too ready to inflict its suffering.

Alexei met her gaze and grinned with a bravado she only wished she had.

"What are you up to, Alyosha?"

"You'll see," he said, handing her a pair of earplugs. He returned his hand to his pocket, jingling the coins again. Another of their father's failed experiments, the issuing of coin as currency had nearly bankrupted the Imperial Treasury. Fumbling for coins had replaced instantaneous transactions with retinal readers, and the Empire had nearly revolted.

The doors hissed aside, loosing upon them the thrumming of engines. Anastasia quickly put in the earplugs.

He gestured her to follow and led her deep into the mechanical forest. Conduits of all sizes crisscrossed the walls and ceiling. The metal-grid floor under her feet masked a thicket of machinery, its purpose elusive. She'd have been frightened if Alexei hadn't been with her.

"This way," he said, but all she saw was his lips move and his hand wave, his words drowned out in the deluge of sound. She snorted to clear from her nostrils the smells of lubricants on the ionized air.